Importing Diversity: Inside Japan's JET Program Read online

  DAVID L. McCONNELL

  Dedicated to the memory of Jackson Bailey, whose scholarship, values, and commitment to intercultural exchange served as an inspiration for this study

  Preface

  Acknowledgments

  List of Acronyms

  1. JAPAN'S IMAGE PROBLEM: CULTURE, HISTORY, AND GLOBAL INTEGRATION

  2. THE SOLUTION: TOP-DOWN "GRASSROOTS INTERNATIONALIZATION"

  3. THE START-UP YEARS: THE "CRASH PROGRAM" NEARLY CRASHES

  4. MANAGING DIVERSITY: THE VIEW FROM A PREFECTURAL BOARD OF EDUCATION

  5. BEYOND THE STEREOTYPES: THE JET PROGRAM IN LOCAL SCHOOLS

  6. THE LEARNING CURVE: JETTING INTO THE NEW MILLENNIUM

  7. FINAL THOUGHTS

  EPILOGUE: MIRROR ON MULTICULTURALISM IN THE UNITED STATES

  Notes

  Bibliography

  Index

  "Show us some leadership, Japan!" This refrain, perhaps more than any other, sums up Japan's predicament in the waning years of the twentieth century. Having completed one of the most dramatic economic turnarounds in recorded history, Japan nonetheless continues to suffer from an acute image problem within much of the international community. The Gulf War vividly demonstrated the widespread persistence of skeptical attitudes about Japan's motives. After contributing $13 billion to the war effort, Japan was roundly criticized for its "checkbook diplomacy." While the challenge facing Japan is articulated differently by different observers, all pose the same underlying question: How has Japan been able to gain so much economically without experiencing a comparable rise in its international standing?

  The usual answer, at least in part, is that for all its overseas connections, Japan still largely lacks a sense of participation in the larger world. Japan's intense feelings of isolation and exaggerated sense of uniqueness are increasingly criticized by the rest of the world as barriers to business and by Japanese themselves as embarrassing social handicaps incommensurate with Japan's growing status as a world economic leader. Thus, at a time when pluralist nations around the world are struggling to integrate their ethnically diverse populations, Japan is under intense international pressure to solve the opposite problem: to "create diversity" and to acquaint its insulated people with foreigners at the level of face-to-face interaction.

  In 1987 the Japanese government decided to address this problem via a different tack: drop thousands of college graduates primarily from Western countries into public secondary schools and local government offices in every corner of the nation. With an annual budget approaching $500 million, the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program is now the centerpiece of a top-down effort to create "mass internationalization." Eclipsing in magnitude even such highly regarded exchange programs as the Fulbright Program and Peace Corps, this effort has been proclaimed by Japanese officials as "the greatest initiative undertaken since World War II related to the field of human and cultural relations."'

  This book examines the struggle for cultural and educational change in contemporary Japanese society through the lens of the JET Program. It asks what happens when a country known the world over for its organizational efficiency tackles the thorny issue of coping with diversity. What is the political symbolism and social reality of "internationalization" in a society structured on modes of social relations very unlike those in most Western countries? What are the powers and limitations of the Japanese state in facilitating top-down change? How does the JET Program chart a course between the sincere desire of the Japanese to raise their status within the world community and the deep-rooted sense of separateness still felt by many Japanese today? Relying on two years of fieldwork in Japan from 1988 to 1990 and four follow-up visits between 1993 and 1999, I explore these and other questions.

  While the topic of Japan's integration with the rest of the world has received much attention of late, there appears to be little consensus on the subject. Indeed, mutually opposing views carry the day. On the one hand, we often hear that Japan has something akin to a culture of resentment toward foreigners, as if the entire country were engaged in a concerted and well-orchestrated effort to keep them out. Media reports targeting the "dark side" of Japan perpetuate this image of a country of reactionaries: highly placed policymakers who regularly drop racial slurs, Ministry of Education officials who ruthlessly censor textbooks, politicians who are unable to come to grips with Japan's militaristic past, bureaucrats who stubbornly cling to the status quo, and company executives who, in collusion with Ministry of International Trade and Industry officials, go out of their way to make it difficult for foreign companies to do business in Japan. In this view, Japan has changed little over the past century. It remains a "closed society" at heart, and the current internationalization campaign is little more than a smoke screen to divert attention from the country's true nationalistic interests.

  On the other hand, a competing set of images stress the many changes that Japan has made during the postwar period. According to this model, Japan's similarities with other industrialized countries now far outweigh its differences. The history of postwar Japan can be read as the triumph of urbanism over rural life, corporations over family-owned shops and farms, bread and meat over rice and fish, mass media over the oral tradition, and meritocracy over ascription. In other words, there has been a steady, if gradual, movement toward Western forms and meanings. Efforts at internationalization in virtually all sectors of Japanese society clearly testify to the importance the Japanese place on changing their institutions and practices. In this view, it is unrealistic to expect Japan to change overnight; but it is assumed that given time and proper guidance, Japan will gradually open itself up to the rest of the world and free itself of bias.

  Which of these two views is accurate? Is Japan a closed society or not? Or do either-or characterizations oversimplify the reality of the situation? To answer these questions requires a detailed ethnographic study based on careful observation. Therein lies the rationale for this study.

  It has been said that the best way to find out how something works is to kick it and see whether it kicks back. The foreign participants in the JET Program disrupt the accustomed routines in Japanese schools and communities in countless ways, intentionally and unintentionally. By examining both the diversity and the regularities in Japanese responses to these reform-minded youth, I hope that we can acquire a more accurate and nuanced understanding of Japan's struggle for global integration in the Heisei era.

  Thirteen years have passed since I first began this project, and I have had the good fortune of being accompanied at various stages of the journey by many wonderful people. Mentors, colleagues, friends, and family provided me with unselfish and sustained support, for which I am deeply grateful.

  My interest in education and internationalization in Japan dates back to the early i98os, when I was an undergraduate at Earlham College. I want to thank the late Jackson Bailey as well as Nelson Bingham for first opening my eyes to the potential self-knowledge to be gained through the study of Japanese culture, and for nurturing that interest both professionally and personally ever since. Nancy Rosenberger, my first mentor in Japan, was largely responsible for cultivating my interest in examining Japanese education through the lens of anthropology.

  The research project itself could not have been accomplished without the kindness and support of many people. In Japan, this work was entirely dependent on the generosity and goodwill of officials in the Ministries of Education, Home Affairs, and Foreign Affairs. I am especially grateful for the cooperation of the senior Japanese staff and the program coordinators at the Council of Local Authorities for International Relations (CLAIR),
the national-level administrative office for the JET Program. At the prefectural, municipal, and local school levels, I am indebted to the many Japanese administrators, teachers, and students, as well as the foreign participants on the JET Program, who so willingly shared their time and insights with me. Apart from the few individuals who are on public record as playing a role in the start-up of the JET Program, or who have consented to having their real names used, all of the above collaborators must remain anonymous, as they were promised. (In the text, full names indicate real names, and all others are pseudonyms.)

  Throughout the initial two years of research in Japan, Caroline Yang and her staff at the Japan-U.S. Education Commission went far beyond the call of duty to lend a helping hand whenever possible. Tetsuya Kobayashi, my mentor at Kyoto University, extended kindness at every opportunity. He introduced me to many key people and generously included me in his own research project on English teaching in Japan. Wada Minoru was instrumental in shaping my understanding of the role of the Ministry of Education in the JET Program, and I deeply appreciate the patience and good humor with which he put up with my nagging questions for nearly ten years. Sugimoto Hitoshi gave selflessly of his time to assist me in translating many documents, and Tachibana Masaru was instrumental in arranging many important interviews.

  During my doctoral studies in anthropology and education at Stanford University, Harumi Befu shepherded me through the dissertation process with wisdom and patience. David Tyack, Ray McDermott, and John Meyer also contributed substantially to the project. Merry White, Susan Pharr, Carol Gluck, and John Montgomery helped me sharpen my focus on the big issues during a one-year postdoctoral fellowship at the Program on U.S.-Japan Relations at Harvard University.

  I owe a special debt of gratitude to Thomas Rohlen. Possessing a rare combination of compassion and perspective, he has been a source of inspiration for this project from start to finish. I dare say I have learned more about things Japanese from Tom than from any other single person.

  Many other people have taken the time to share ideas and encouragement at various stages of the endeavor: I am especially grateful to Catherine Lewis, John Singleton, Richard Rubinger, Gerald LeTendre, Steve Nussbaum, Edward Beauchamp, Marc Ventresca, Nancy Sato, Becky Erwin Fukuzawa, Diane Musselwhite, Brent Gaston, Tsuneyuki and Kiyomi Ueki, Fumiko Arao, Robert Clayton, Buffy Lundgren, Angela Joyce, and Midori Kuno Hasegawa.

  For contributing monetary assistance to support this research project, I wish to thank the Fulbright Program of the Japan-U.S. Education Commission; the Japan Fund of the Institute of International Studies at Stanford University; the Spencer Foundation of the Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Foundation; the Program on U.S.-Japan Relations and the Pacific Basin Research Center at Harvard University; the College of Wooster's Henry Luce III Fund for Distinguished Scholarship; the Great Lakes College Association's Japan Fund; and the Northeast Asia Council of the Association for Asian Studies. A one-semester leave received from the College of Wooster in the fall of 1995 was invaluable in facilitating work on an initial draft of the book.

  The editing process benefited from the valuable input of several persons. First and foremost, I want to thank Robert Juppe, Jr., for his tireless and inspirational commitment to this project. Bob not only shared his unique perspective on the JET Program with me during the time of fieldwork but also spent dozens of hours writing out lengthy and insightful comments on an earlier draft of the manuscript. Scott Olinger, too, provided detailed commentary on the same draft based on his long association with the program. The very existence of such thoughtful alumni who care deeply about the long-term prospects of the JET Program is striking testimony to its considerable influence.

  Laura Driussi at the University of California Press was indefatigable in her support of the project as it moved through the complex maze toward publication. Her patience, wisdom, and good humor all shaped the final product in important ways. Sheila Levine and Scott Norton were of great help as well, and I received superb editorial assistance from Alice Falk. Special thanks are also due to three anonymous reviewers for their helpful suggestions. All errors of fact and interpretation, of course, remain my own.

  Any project of this magnitude is ultimately dependent on the goodwill of family members, and my grandparents, parents, and parents-in-law have contributed their time and moral support as well as substantive suggestions. A special thanks to my father-in-law, Jack Love, for giving so generously of his time and talent to help fashion the attic office in which the final stages of this manuscript were written. My children Brennen and Alaina have contributed to the book in their own way, asking probing questions such as "Daddy, what is data?" and "Are you ever going to be finished with that thing?" Last but certainly not least, my wife Cathy has been a constant companion, critic, and confidante throughout the entire journey. At various stages of the project, and always when it was most needed, she has offered wisdom, reassurance, perspective, and impatience. For all these contributions, and especially for her uncommonly good judgment, I am truly grateful.

  The challenge facing Japan is evident and enormous.... Japan urgently needs to change its pattern of interaction with the world, since the consequences of Japan's past and present self-centered behavior are being felt.... The passive, receptive role Japan still plays in the international arena is now obsolete, and the burden of change rests with Japan.

  James Abegglen, cross-cultural consultant, in "Japan's Ultimate Vulnerability" (1988)

  The greatest single problem the Japanese face today is their relationship with other peoples.... Japan naturally is much admired but it is not widely liked or trusted.

  The late Edwin 0. Reischauer, former U.S. ambassador to Japan, in The Japanese Today (1988)

  Over the past decade a fascinating social experiment has been quietly unfolding in schools, communities, and local government offices throughout Japan. Conceived during the height of the U.S.-Japan trade war in the mid- ig8os, the proposal for the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program was first presented as a "gift" to the American delegation at the "RonYasu" summit in 1986 between U.S. President Ronald Reagan and Japanese Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone. At considerable expense, the Japanese government would invite young people from the United States and several other English-speaking countries "to foster international perspectives by promoting international exchange at local levels as well as intensifying foreign language education."' After a weeklong orientation in Tokyo, participants would be sent to local schools and government offices throughout the country. At a time when conflict about economic policy seemed neverending, the JET Program would provide tangible evidence of good faith efforts being taken to open up the Japanese system at local levels and to rectify the imbalance in the flow of goods and personnel.

  Three ministries-Jichisho, Mombusho, and Gaimusho-were charged with administering the program jointly. The Ministry of Home Affairs (Jichisho) gained overall control of the program, including the budget, and quickly formed an administrative agency to oversee implementation. The Ministry of Education, Science, and Culture (Mombusho) was charged with providing guidance to offices of education and local schools regarding the team-teaching portion of the program. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Gaimusho) would recruit participants through its consulates overseas. Job types for participants were divided into two major categories. The first, assistant English teachers (AETs) based in public secondary schools or offices of education, would make up more than go percent of all participants; their primary duties would involve team-teaching communicative language classes with a Japanese teacher of English.' Those in the second category of participants, coordinators of international relations (CIRs), were to be placed in prefectural or municipal offices, where they would assist in a variety of international activities in their area.

  On i August 1987, less than a year after the initial press release, the first group of 848 college graduates from the United States, Britain, Australia, and New Zealand arrived at Narita Airport outside T
okyo; they were greeted with an extraordinary degree of media hype and with red-carpet treatment.; These "foreign ambassadors," as they were called, were wined and dined at a five-star Tokyo hotel during a weeklong orientation. Their arrival was covered by all the major newspapers and television networks in Japan. The governor of Tokyo and cabinet ministers from the sponsoring ministries attended the opening ceremony. Speech after speech by top government officials stressed the select nature of the foreigners chosen to come to Japan and exhorted them to shoulder an important part of the responsibility for Japan's internationalization. As one American participant recalled, "We were treated like stars and really felt special."

  But the concept of internationalization, so easy to agree on when kept abstract, began to break down as soon as the reform-minded college graduates were dispatched to public secondary schools and local government offices throughout Japan. Accustomed to being in the racial majority in their own cultures, many were surprised at being thrust into a fish bowl where they were subject to stares and much scrutiny. Others were shocked when prefectural offices began sending them on a one-shot basis to dozens of schools, where they were wheeled out like living globes in classroom after classroom. The realities of entrance exams and the poor conversational abilities of many Japanese teachers of English left most feeling underutilized at best and intentionally misled at worst. By the third year of the program, burnout and cynicism had become rampant, and the informal grapevine among foreign participants was abuzz with the dark view that the government was using JET participants as mere window dressing.

  On the Japanese side, prefectural administrators complained bitterly, if privately, about the extra work and indigestion created by daily interactions with unpredictable foreigners. Seminars on "how to team-teach" spread like wildfire around the country; virtually overnight, publication of step-by-step guidebooks on how to host an ALT became a cottage industry.